Beethoven's Footsteps
by Alliron
Summary: Dr. Edelstein is approached by the oddly eager and slightly off-putting Gilbert about staring immediate cello lessons for no discernable reason. Surprised by Gilbert's determination and frustrated by his secrecy, the two must learn to work together if he's going to be an effective teacher, and if Roderich is going to come to terms with some hard truths about himself. (PruAus.)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"Frau Schmidt, will I be expecting you two next week?" Roderich asked. He finished writing down this week's lesson notes and slid them across the music stand.

"No, actually, our family is going on vacation next week." Frau Schmidt rapidly replied. She shoved the notebook into her purse and grabbed her daughter's jacket, throwing it over the girl's shoulders as she finished packing up her violin.

"Oh, how exciting. Where are you going?" He asked curiously, glancing out the window at a bird or something that had flown past and caught his eye. When he looked back, expecting her answer, Frau Schmidt and her child had disappeared.

" _Auf Wiedersehen_!" She called as she ushered her daughter down the hall. She was always frantic to leave lessons, and hesitant to answer questions at all.

Roderich sighed, crossing his arms in frustration. He looked up to see a man sitting on the bench across the hall from his office. The man was leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as well. He watched the woman and her daughter leave, their footsteps still clicking on the tile.

"Let me guess," the man said as soon as they were out of earshot. "Your favorite student."

Roderich turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. "On the contrary." He did not appreciate the man's eavesdropping. He turned to retreat back into his office, a hand on the doorknob. Now that his last lesson of the day had gone, he could pack up and go home. He was starving, and craving something with cheese….

"Are you Dr. Edelstein?" the man rather suddenly asked.

Roderich turned back, unprepared for a conversation. He noticed the man was now seated on the edge of the bench, alert and attentive. "Yes, I am."

The man quickly stood up to face him properly, extending a hand. The man was slightly taller than him, and even whiter in the face. Roderich couldn't see how that was possible. "My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt, I wanted to ask you about taking cello lessons."

Roderich shook his hand, but then frowned. "I only teach violin; I would suggest contacting Dr. Murray, his office is just down the hall…" he began to point to the direction of said office, but Gilbert interrupted him.

"I did, but he said he's on leave this semester…."

Roderich blinked, taken back by the man's abrupt manner of speaking. "Oh, yes. He is on sabbatical. I'm sure he would be more than happy to start with you in the spring…."

"…I can't wait until the spring, Dr. Edelstein. Dr. Murray said to speak with you in person."

Roderich looked at the man, feeling over all, quite annoyed. From the man's… Gilbert's… incessant interruptions, his insertion of himself into a conversation, to Dr. Murray's probably harmless suggestion, the entire situation was rather off-putting. He simply wanted to go home and have some dinner. He looked Gilbert in the eye, for the first time noticing the desperation behind his glare and his words. Something was urgent about his demeanor, but he couldn't place exactly where the man was coming from. There was rarely anything urgent about the desire to take private lessons, so why was this man so set on the idea?

He turned back to look into his office, feeling aggravated at Gilbert, and himself. There was no reason he couldn't teach the man cello, he had enough experience to do so, and he had the time in his schedule to make it work. Perhaps he was just hungry and cranky following the ill-mannered Frau Schmidt and her chronically unprepared daughter.

The professor sighed and turned to face Gilbert once again. "Are you a beginner?"

"Yes." Gilbert replied, the anxiety fading into assuredness.

"Are you a student at the university?"

"I was, but, I graduated several years ago."

"My rate for students outside the university is 45 Euros for each hour lesson. Is that something you can afford?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

"When are you available?"

"Absolutely any time."

"Any time?" Roderich asked again, unbelieving that this man would cut out _literally_ any time.

"Yes, you name a time and day and I will be here."

Roderich thought for a moment, going over his weekly calendar in his head. He was so awful about writing things down. "Thursdays, at noon." That time should work, he thought.

"That's wonderful. Thank you so much." He reached out to shake his hand again. Roderich did so, quite confused but pleasantly surprised at just how easy this was.

Roderich reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. "Here is my business card, ignore the special event musician title, my mobile number is listed at the bottom." He handed Gilbert a card, watching him read over it diligently. "Feel free to text me if you have questions about preparing for your lessons. Bring your instrument, as well as a spiral notebook of staff paper. I've never taught a beginning cellist, so I will have to let you know what book to buy after I do a bit of research myself."

Gilbert grinned, eager and beaming with excitement. "Oh, sure, yeah."

Roderich smiled politely, reacting to Gilbert's own smiling face. "I'm about to head home, so please text me or email me if you have any further questions." He sighed, letting the information set in for a moment and feeling overwhelmed himself. He could only deal with strangers for so long. He stepped inside his office, beginning to sit down as he closed the door.

As the door slowly swung shut, Gilbert glanced up one last time before bolting down the hall, opposite the direction that Frau Schmidt and her daughter had gone. "Of course, and thank you, Dr. Edelstein!" he called out, the door closing just in time for Roderich to catch the last of his words.

The professor sighed and sank into his chair. The encounter had confused him, but he tried to look at the situation objectively. He hadn't many opportunities in the past to teach cello, which was a lovely instrument. This would be a learning opportunity for both of them. And with how eager the man sounded, there wasn't too much of a chance that he wouldn't show up for lessons like some of his less motivated university students. And it would be a nice break from his other private students, many of whom were unapologetically lazy children and teenagers. Perhaps the man's energy would motivate him to be a better teacher.

As he ran over the possibilities in his mind, he stood up slowly and grabbed his jacket from the rack on the wall. He shut the lights off in his office, picked up his violin case and his bag, and shut the door behind him. He shuffled through his pocket for his keys, hastily locking the door. He was anxious to get off campus. He was still hungry, and desperate for something to eat. His mind was so focused on food, in fact, that he hadn't heard his phone go off in his pocket.


	2. Chapter 2

The air had just begun to bite and the pedestrians had just begun to drag their heavier jackets out of their closet. Roderich had himself pulled his favorite coat from the winter closet, anticipating a heavy wind by the look of the waving trees. And sure enough, the further he walked, the wind had picked up more and more leaves from the branches and thrown them around.

Autumn was probably his favorite season, save for Christmastime. The excruciating heat had passed and the breeze from the North Sea was quite welcome. He also loved to hear the sounds of Autumn. The new semester beginning brought life back into the campus, and chattering voices kept him eager to work with his students. The wind shuffling the trees, too, was one of his favorite sounds. It was like applause, in a way, he thought. The sound of the leaves rustling around brought the world around him to life, and dissipated the stillness of any lulls in thought.

Another sound he enjoyed was the bell in the door of the music store: high and bright and welcoming. He pushed the door open with a smile. This was one of his favorite places to go. It inspired such creativity in him, to see the walls of instruments filled and ready to be played. He always dreamed about buying one of the nicest instruments, not that anything was particularly special here. He had a perfectly nice violin on a permanent loan from one of the Philharmonic's wealthier patrons. There was no reason to want another. He daydreamt nonetheless.

He approached the rack of books, searching around for some sort of introductory cello instruction for his new pupil. Spotting some familiar-looking names on the bottom shelf, he bent to find some sort of method book that would be manageable for them both to work with.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see a familiar face. "Oh, hello, Max."

" _Guten morgen_ , Roderich. I said hello when you came in!" His friend smiled and

"Oh, sorry, I must not have heard you." He stood up, with a book in hand.

"Ah, it's fine, I was behind the counter," he glanced down at the book in Roderich's hand, doing a double-take in surprise. "A cello book? What are you up to?"

Roderich rolled his eyes. "Dr. Murray is on sabbatical, so he suggested that I take an outside student while he's away. He's a beginner but he seems excited."

Max leaned onto the book rack, grabbing a similar-looking title. "So you need some sort of cello method volume one…" he mused. "This one is popular," he handed the book over to Roderich. "It's aimed at children, though, but it might be the best thing that we have if he doesn't know how to read music."

Roderich tilted his head to the side. He bent down once more, picking up another copy of the same book. "I hadn't considered that. I'll try it out. How much is it?"

Roderich shifted through the pages, seeing some colorful illustrations that would certainly capture the interest of a child. Max still hadn't responded, and he looked up in curiosity.

Max too was scanning the pages of a similar volume. His face was expressionless, and lost in thought.

"Well?" Roderich proded, standing up to meet his eye level.

"Are you interested in these?" Max asked, holding the books to the side.

"That depends, how much are they?" The professor asked impatiently.

Max looked perplexed, raising an eyebrow. "They're ten a piece."

Roderich matched his expression. "Alright?" He asked, quite miffed at his friends displeased appearance. There was no reason for him to be so condescending. He had only asked a very simple question. He noticed that Max's brow was furrowed as his friend had walked away. His attitude change was very uncharacteristic, Roderich thought. Max was probably just having an off day.

He approached the register, reaching for his back pocket. Max had nearly finished typing in the book numbers when Roderich had finally fished a fifty-euro note from his wallet. He handed it over, the conversation definitely dead and the awkward silence setting in. The only break was the sound of the front door's bell piercing the balloon piercing the quiet.

He looked down at his wallet, meticulously shoving the change into the folds. What was the deal. Max had been his friend for years, with no discernable change in his personality. He hoped that there was nothing bothering him, but he wondered what Max's issue was today. Surely it was nothing that he had said to anger his friend, but after he had reviewed the conversation in his head he-

"…Roderich?" Max suddenly asked, rather loudly.

"What!" He asked, looking up to see a frustrated max with a paper in his hand outstretched in his direction.

"Do you want the receipt?" His tone was higher, and his mouth was curved downward in displeasure.

Roderich frowned, incredulous. He snatched the receipt from the man's hand and stuffed it into his wallet as well. He picked up his stack of method books and exited the store with no further word. He simply couldn't believe Max today. What on earth made him raise his voice so rudely? There was no reason at all for him to act so displeased with one of his regular and faithful customers. He hated the idea of having to find a new music store, especially with Max's prices being so reasonable, but he wouldn't put the idea to rest if the owner was going to treat his long-time friend so rudely.

As he left, Roderich noted that the lovely doorbell sounded much more muted from the outside of the store. A sour note to end a sour meeting.


	3. Chapter 3

Roderich trekked up the long staircase to his office, his heavy heels hitting the marble floors with an echoing crack. Coffee in hand and instrument in the other, he clumsily fiddled – no pun intended – with his keys as he tried to find the proper one.

He saw someone in his peripheral standing oddly close to him, and he glanced up to see Gilbert with a hand out. "You need some help, professor?" One eyebrow cocked and a condescending grimace was not a sight he wanted to see, reminded of Max's insolence from earlier that day.

"Yes, take this." Annoyed that someone was in his personal space who was essentially a stranger, he handed his thermos to Gilbert so that he could finally work with his keys. "Also, please, call me Dr. Edelstein, if you don't mind."

He saw Gilbert's expression change from the corner of his eye, but he wasn't sure exactly what the new look had become. He assured himself that he didn't necessarily want to know. "My bad, my bad." Gilbert said defensively, still feeling that the man was much too close to him for his own comfort.

Roderich sighed as the office door opened. He set his instrument down on the chair next to his desk and slid his bag off of his shoulder. He shed his coat and placed it on the hooks on the wall. He reached outwards towards the door, expecting Gilbert to hand him his coffee, but saw that it was already on the desk in front of him. Not only that, but Gilbert had already wheeled his cello inside and thrown his own coat across the piano bench. Roderich was quite surprised at the level of stealth which with his new pupil was equipped.

Gilbert stared down the cello case, lost in thought for a moment. He seemed perplexed by the instrument in its shell, as if it were something that had fallen from an alien spacecraft onto the earth. Roderich watched as the man hesitantly ran his hands over it, the great mystery of what it contained no longer a secret.

"You know," Roderich began. "You are fifteen minutes early."

Gilbert looked up and grinned. "I know." He said with assurance. "We can start early. I'll pay you overtime."

Roderich was quite offended. "Presumptuous, don't you think?" He thought that perhaps it was time to take the bull of Gilbert's headstrong nature by the horns.

"Come on. I want to learn as much as I can." Gilbert crossed his arms, still looking oddly smug. "I'll pay you extra, I really will." He shoved a hand into the front pocket of his jeans, producing three neatly-folded twenty-euro notes. "Here, if this will not cover overtime I'll bring more next week."

Roderich was sure that his surprise was palpable. No student had ever come forth with this much charisma or persistence, let alone on the first lesson. "I…" There was no way he could just turn him down, or kick him out of his office, or have him sit in his office silently for fifteen minutes. He was probably just going to check his emails anyway, so why not? "Fine." He couldn't help but feel slightly defeated, and aggravated that the defeat had occurred on his own turf.

Gilbert grinned. "Cool." He again looked over the Pandora's box of his cello case. "So, what do I learn to play first!"

Roderich threw a hand up in the air, the situation overwhelming him. "Please," he said, to Gilbert as well as to himself. "There's a few things we have to discuss first." He reached for his coffee, sipping it for a moment as he collected his thoughts. "Just a few things that need to be talked about."

"Terms and conditions?" Gilbert asked. The grin remained.

He thought for a moment, looking over the rim of his glasses at the stranger in his office. "Sure." He sat down slowly in his swivel chair, learning back. "Please, have a seat."

"Oh boy," the man said, pulling up the piano bench. It scraped across the tile in a hideous screech, and landed right in front of his desk. "Didn't realize this was a trip to the headmaster's office." He plopped down directly across from Roderich.

Still unamused, he sighed and leaned forward. "I just want to know some things about where we are beginning with your instruction."

Gilbert laughed. "Oh yeah. _The_ beginning. Like, THE beginning. I know nothing."

Roderich scoffed in return. Such a blanket statement, he thought. Nobody knows nothing. "Well, then what made you want to learn the cello, and so hastily?" He watched as Gilbert glanced to the side at it from the corner of his eye. He could tell that the man was having an internal conversation, but he waited for an answer.

"Well, the instrument was in the family. My father was going to be sold if somebody didn't do something with it in a timely manner." He looked down at his hands.

"In the family?" Roderich questioned. "Who played the cello?"

"My brother." He looked up quickly. "He doesn't play anymore. He's got other things to do."

Roderich scoffed. "And you do not?"

Gilbert suddenly became angry. "Do you want to teach me or not?" He fired, leaning across the desk.

Roderich threw his hands up again in defense. "No, no, please. I will teach you. I suppose I just do not understand the haste."

"There's nothing to understand." He said, slumping backwards onto the piano bench once again. "I want to learn to play. So where do we start."

Unconvinced, Roderich looked around for a piece of scrap paper. "Let me just jot some things down, then." He tested a couple of different ink pens, scribbling for a moment before he found one that worked. He flipped an old memo over, writing Gilbert's name at the top of the blank paper. "Alright, so."

"So." Gilbert repeated.

He looked back up with one eyebrow raised before returning to the paper. "Do you have any musical training?"

"Uh…" Gilbert thought, looking around the room. "Define training."

"Let's change that to experience," Roderich quickly added. "Anything at all."

He thought for a moment. "Uh… I can sing. I think. I was in children's church choir until my voice changed. I sing with my buddy's band."

Roderich revealed a small smile, finding it humorous to picture this brash, tall man as a member of a children's choir singing hymns on a Sunday morning. "What kind of music do they play?"

Gilbert looked smug again. "They do covers of German and English-speaking metal bands."

Roderich nodded. "Like Rammstein?"

There was silence for a moment as Roderich looked up from the paper to see a very, very surprised Gilbert, his arms uncrossed for once. "You know who Rammstein is?"

Roderich let out a laugh, a full one. "I don't live under a rock. Classical music does not exist in a vacuum. Of course I know who Rammstein is. An old classmate of mine actually helped with the editing, or something, on their 2009 album, not that I could tell you much of anything else about them."

"Oh my god, that's so cool." Gilbert beamed. "I'm so jealous."

The professor let him sit for a moment and relish the thought before jumping back in. "Any more musical experience?"

Shaken from his no doubt Rammstein-related daydream, he shook his head. "Nope. I don't even listen to classical music, I know I should, I just… don't'."

Smiling expectantly, Roderich opened his phone's music library. "The good thing is, that even if you don't listen to classical music, you'll be surprised at what you recognize. It feels inaccessible because it is regarded as elitist, high art music. But it carries as much weight as any other genre."

Gilbert crossed his arms again, leaning from side to side. "Yeah, but. Forgive me, professor, it just sounds boring!" He drew out the word, letting it sink in to the walls of Roderich's office. "There's no lyrics, unless it's opera, which is too long! How am I supposed to know what the music is going for if there aren't any words?"

He sighed, knowing that this classically-inept crab would be a tough shell to break. "I think that understanding context is the first place to start. People throughout the history of western music, that is, western Europe and North America, have pushed boundaries further and further in order to achieve new sounds and find new ways to convey emotions."

Gilbert's eyebrows shot up. "This is some crazy academic stuff."

Now it was Roderich's turn to smugly smile. "I am a university professor. I fully expect my students to have at least some understanding of the world we will dive into."

His pupil leaned forward and put his head down on the desk. "Are you going to make me listen to boring music?"

"This is my livelihood, Gilbert. Please show it some respect." He scrolled through once more before selecting one of his favorite composers. "This is something you will know, I'm certain of it."

As the music began, Roderich watched with contained excitement as Gilbert turned his head to the side in immediate recognition. A bold unison of all the instruments quickly faded into the brass section playing a familiar melody, and the strings throwing down chords on the beats. A softer section entered, and Gilbert looked up in anticipation.

"I thought it was Jaws. Then I thought it was the Lord of the Rings. Is this just some movie mashup?" The unknowing stare on Gilbert's face was like candy to Roderich, finally seeing this over-confident man brought to musical justice.

"No, but I see why you think those things. This is Dvorak's New World Symphony. This is the fourth movement, actually, but the whole symphony has been the inspiration for a lot of movie music." Roderich pressed pause and looked back up at his companion. "Was that boring?"

"Well, no, but…"

"…excellent. So here's another one. This one has words." He saw Gilbert's mouth open to argue, but he held up a hand. "In German. Don't worry." He scrolled to find it. "This is a short piece, accompanied by piano. It's titled _Der Erlkönig._ I'll just let the music explain itself from there."

He pressed play. Immediately the two were met with the repeated, running eighth notes. An eerie line in the bass was repeated, the tension growing with each recurring statement of the theme. Finally, the soloist began to sing, narrating the story of a man and his son traveling through the woods on horseback. The evil elf king calls out to the boy, but the father tells him it's just the wind. Repeatedly, the supernatural being speaks to the child, and his father tells him that there's nothing there.

Gilbert was quite literally on the edge of his seat, invested in the fate of the pair in the forest. All the time, the fast, repeated notes keeping him locked into place. At one point the father commands his horse to go faster, and the notes sped up as well, and Gilbert's eyebrows shot up. Roderich loved seeing people react to music for the first time, and have an understanding, but he was quite surprised at the response that it brought out of Gilbert.

Then the elf king says that he will take the child by force if he has to. The child cries out that he is hurt. Gilbert ran a hand through his hair, visibly stressed. As the father and son reach their home, the fast notes slow quite frantically. Gilbert folded his hands together on top of the desk in anticipation.

But the father is too late, his son has died in his arms. The singer's voice dies out as well, impossibly quiet. One repeated chord ends the piece abruptly.

"…oh my god." Gilbert said, looking defeated. "That was a journey."

"Yes!" Roderich said with exhilaration. "It was! And do you know why?" He felt almost inappropriate, responding to Gilbert's discomfort with such glee, but this is exactly what he had hoped for.

"Um…"

"Tell me why you're stressed."

"Because the kid died and there was nothing that his dad could do."

Roderich motioned for him to continue. "And how many characters were in the story?"

Gilbert blinked. "There were… three people? Is that what you're asking?"

"Yes. How do you know there were three people?"

"Uh… because it sounded like three different people?"

"But it isn't. That was one man, performing the whole song. It's a piece for solo voice."

Looking quite surprised, Gilbert scoffed. "But one was a little boy's voice."

Roderich looked smug. "Ah, yes. You see, the composer, Schubert, wrote each voice in a different vocal range to convey the different characters." Gilbert looked straight ahead, completely lost. He continued, "The father sings only low notes. The boy sings only high notes. The Elf King sings somewhere in the middle. Does that make sense?"

Gilbert blinked, looking around the room as if he would find clarification on the ceiling or on the walls. "Yeah…"

"And where were they?" Roderich continued to prod.

"In the woods?"

"How did they get there?"

"Horseback?"

"How do you know?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "It says so."

The professor smiled. "The text only says that he rides, how do you know it was not a bike, or a motorcycle?" Gilbert's mouth opened, but no words came out. He had no answer, no response at all. "Think about the music."

Gilbert shrugged. "It… sounded like a horse?"

"Yes!" Roderich said with excitement. "Why?"

"Because…" Gilbert thought for a moment. He tapped on the desk, mimicking the repeated fast notes that had been heard in the piece. "It sounds like a running horse."

"Yes! Exactly!" Roderich had never broken through to someone so quickly. Perhaps Gilbert wasn't completely a lost cause after all. "He purposefully wrote it to sound like a running horse. There's also a lot of interesting things going on in terms of music theory here, with key signatures and all that. But we'll save that for when you're a little more acquainted with those terms."

"Now you've completely lost me, professor." Gilbert said with a smug smile. "But I'm sure I can handle music theory." He glanced backwards once again. "So… can we play now?"

Once more, Roderich held up a hand. "Patience. There's one more thing I'd like you to hear before we get started."

Gilbert put his head on the desk with a groan. "I can listen to this at home. Please, I want to play the cello."

Roderich looked disapprovingly down at his student. "This is a piece for the cello. One of the most famous pieces ever written for cello, actually."

Turning to the side to stare at the wall, Gilbert sighed. "Alright."

The professor scrolled through his phone once again. "This piece was written by a great composer, Edward Elgar. It was one of the last things he ever wrote. The first world war had just ended, and the world had been completely obliterated by it. He was also very sick at the time. His wife was also very ill, and the summer he wrote it he said that she was "fading away before one's very eyes."

Gilbert didn't move, and didn't say anything in response. Roderich took that as an invitation to continue.

"It's often regarded as one of the saddest openings ever written. It is even rumored that Elgar said himself that after his death, if you hear someone humming this tune, that it was his soul in the afterlife or something of that nature." He waited for Gilbert's reply, but again he was silent. So he pressed play.

Two chords, both calling out in despair, seemed to echo around his office. The melodic line that followed was like a ghostly cry, weaker and more desperate. The music consumed the two men, and as the performer landed on a deep bass note, the vibrations even passed through the recording and into the air around them. The music called to the void, asking for answers, but never receiving. Each note was a specific word for the trials that the protagonist of this story had faced.

For a few minutes, Gilbert sat completely still, his head still on the desk facing the wall. Roderich paused the music, though, when he saw a hand raise to rub his eyes.

"Everything alright?" he asked gently.

Gilbert said nothing, the calm after the storm enveloping them.

"Gilbert?"

He shot up, his face red. "I said I'm fine!" He slammed a hand down on the desk, looking Roderich in the eyes. "Teach me to play!"

The sense of urgency was tangible, and Roderich let the man stare him down for a second. He was unsure if his fear was justifiable. Gilbert was still a stranger, more or less. He didn't know who he really was or what he was capable of. He was taller and much more muscular, and could easily take the tiny violinist man in a brawl. Perhaps it was best to just appease him for now.

"…fine." Roderich said. He stood slowly, taking one last sip of his coffee before crossing his arms. "Get your instrument out and let's begin."

If you are interested, these are the pieces that they listened to in this chapter.

Dvorak "New World" Symphony no. 9 mvt 4

watch?v=vHqtJH2f1Yk

Schubert "Der Erlkönig" (poem by Goethe, with English subtitles) Note: this isn't my favorite recording of this piece but it's got english subtitles so

watch?v=C3nxyS8wf8E

Elgar Cello Concerto op. 85 (THE best recording of this piece. hands down.)

watch?v=OPhkZW_jwc0

Anyway please enjoy and leave a comment if you care to do so :)


	4. Chapter 4

For the next hour and some minutes, Roderich struggled to continuously explain the basics of holding the instrument and the bow. His pupil was eager to learn, but stubborn to admit when he was wrong. This became more and more of an issue as the lesson went on, as the mistakes Gilbert were unwilling to own up to piled upon one another. Roderich swore he could feel his hair turning gray.

The professor glanced at the clock from the corner of his eye, relieved that it was now exactly one o'clock. This was only the first lesson, he reminded himself. Gilbert would be back next week for another round of bashing their heads into the wall.

"Well, that's our time for today. A good start." Roderich said, feeling confident that he hadn't lied but hadn't been rude.

Gilbert grinned, staring down the neck of the instrument. "I feel like I'll get it really fast." He pulled the bow across the strings, rocking between the four of them loudly with a swift, broad motion.

"I'm sure you will." Roderich stated, returning to his now empty coffee. That statement, he felt, was a bit closer to a lie.

"So what's my homework?" Gilbert asked, beginning to strap the instrument to it's place inside of the case.

The professor turned, leaning against his desk. He pressed his lips against the thermos, more out of habit than expecting liquid. "For this week let's just start on open strings, we need to get you comfortable with the instrument."

The pupil groaned. "That's it? I can't do anything more fun?"

At his wit's end, Roderich put the thermos back down. "If you don't have the basics down, you won't be able to do anything fun at all."

"Fine…" Gilbert snapped the locks shut. "But I don't have any more homework?"

"Do you want homework?" Roderich scoffed.

"You're a professor, that's what you do."

"I hope I encourage learning and the importance of music in one's life, before I assign homework." He took a seat behind his desk, leaning back in the chair.

Gilbert took a seat across from him, much to his annoyance. "Yeah yeah. I guess I just want to know what else I can do!"

Looking up at the ceiling, Roderich wondered for a moment. "Well…" He looked down, shuffling around in the drawers of his desk. He found a small, half-sized notebook of staff paper, and a pen. He wrote in enough notes to fill the page, and labeled one of each. "Here." He slid the notebook over to Gilbert, leaning forward. "Cellists primarily play in bass clef, and here is a guide to reading the notes you'll eventually be playing."

Gilbert raised his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth sank, looking immediately overwhelmed. "I can barely read English now you're asking me to learn a new language."

Roderich smiled. "Music is the universal language. You must master this language, and speak and read it to fluency," he pointed to one of the notes he had labeled. "Besides, there are only seven letters. A-B-C-D-E-F-G. I've even used the American version so that you can more easily find games on the internet to help you learn."

His pupil blinked slowly. "The American version? How many versions are there?"

Roderich sighed. "Just worry about this for right now. But if you see 'H' anywhere, that's just 'B'." He closed the notebook. "Fill in the rest of these by next week and find some internet games that help you practice note-naming."

"There's an 'H'?" Gilbert said, exasperated.

Roderich laughed. "Don't be overwhelmed. Now, I'll see you next week." He stood up and opened the door, hoping to rush the man out of his office. He was not anxious for his return.

Gilbert stood slowly, holding the half notebook in one hand and dragging his cello in the other. "Uh, alright. Now that you've dropped the bomb on me."

Roderich held the door open, raising an eyebrow. "You can email me with questions. Or consult google."

"Okay…" for once speechless, Gilbert rolled his case out and around the door. "Well, see you next week Professor."

"Yes, yes, see you next week." Before Gilbert had a chance to reply, Roderich closed the door and plopped down into his chair, leaning back with a groan. He couldn't draw the line between where Gilbert wanted to play cello and where Gilbert was willing to learn. Perhaps he would show enough initiative and responsibility to figure out the instrument, but his stubborn nature was only going to keep him from progressing.

Cursing silently, Roderich toyed with the hammer once more. He hit the key as hard as he could, but the note was still muffled. He returned to the piano bench, unhappy with the situation and his day in general. Max, Gilbert, and now his piano were all working to make his life as difficult as possible today.

He sighed, closing the key cover and resting his head on it. Perhaps he should just go to bed early. He felt his phone vibrate from the top of the piano. He answered before looking to see who it was.

"Hello."

"Hi, Dr. Edelstein, it's Adelaide. Are you home?"

His neighbor rarely called him unless he had left his keys in the door or something similar. "…yes, why?"

"I've been ringing your doorbell, can I come in?"

Surprised, he turned to face his front door. "You have? Ah, sure, come in."

He saw the orange sunlight overtake the shadow and the silhouette of his neighbor appear in the entryway, and felt the thud of the door close behind her. Adelaide stepped into the living room, looking presentable as ever.

"Good evening, Adelaide. Are you headed to mass on a Thursday?" He felt rather smug, but he supposed he knew her well enough to make jokes such as this.

"And are you testing some experimental music?" She replied, sliding her shoes off and taking a seat in an arm chair facing the piano.

Roderich was confused. "I'm sorry?"

She laughed. "Well you've been banging on that _one note_ for the last fifteen minutes, so I was just wondering what the cause of that was."

"Oh," he turned to look at the open lid, feeling discouraged. "Some of my upper notes are unusually muffled, and this one in particular was giving me grief. I apologize if it was bothering you."

She crossed her legs and tilted her head to the side. "Is something wrong with your piano?"

"I don't know. I certainly hope not." He opened the key cover again, playing a quick scale on the upper two octaves and scowling. "See? Does it not sound unusually soft to you? I wonder if there is something wrong with the hammers."

Adelaide raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, it doesn't sound different to me. But, I'm not a musician."

He hummed in curiosity. He looked at the piano in disappointment. "I suppose I'll have the technician come look at it again…" he turned back to his guest. "So, are you well? Are you done with school?"

"Yes, and yes, thank you. I've actually just returned from my first day at Heidelberg Printing." She smiled proudly, unconsciously straightening her pencil skirt.

"Are you really going all the way to Heidelberg every day?" He said, dumfounded.

She shrugged. "For now. I'm taking the train, and if the commute gets to be too much I might move."

He smiled politely. "I would be sad to see you go, but I wish you the best."

"Thank you, Dr. Edelstein, I really appreciate it." She stood, making her way back towards the door. "Well, I won't keep you any longer. I just wanted to make sure you weren't having a stroke at your piano or something."

He stood in reaction, making his way from behind the piano bench to the doorway. "Thank you for your concern, Adelaide. I'll stop bothering with the keys for now."

She slid her shoes back on, heading for the door and pulling it open. "Also, you might want to call the landlord about the doorbell, they fixed mine for free." She reached around the door and pressed the button, and looked confused. "Oh, it does work."

Roderich blinked. "Press it again."

She reached around again, looking back at him.

"Did you press it?" He asked.

"I'm pressing it over and over again. It's working just fine."

He furrowed his brow. "You're not playing games with me, are you?"

She returned his look. "I wouldn't do that. Can you not hear it?"

The world paused for a moment as Roderich caught up with her question. "…no."

Adelaide didn't know what to say. She brought her hands back to her side. After a moment, she looked up at the doorbell speaker in the entryway. "I bet maintenance would install a different bell for you, one that's not such a high sound. I bet that's why you can't hear it."

He couldn't exactly process the thought. He had always been able to hear it before. "I'm not that old." He said, thinking out loud.

She replied firmly. "…I'm not saying that, Dr. Edelstein. You may just not be able to hear such a high sound."

He looked down, confused. "I'm probably just getting sick again, being around so many students. Sometimes my ears get foggy when I catch colds."

She smiled softly. "I'm sure that's what it is. Well, get better soon," She stepped through the doorway and on to the sidewalk. "Have a good evening."

Quietly, he said, "Yes, you as well, Adelaide. Thank you." He closed the door slowly behind her, and stared at the wood for a moment. He certainly didn't feel sick, and even when he was, he had never _not_ been able to hear the doorbell. He eyed the piano, feeling sudden dread wash over him. What was wrong with him?

He shook his head, and sighed. Perhaps he would head to bed early after all.


	5. Chapter 5

Paranoia and stress consumed Roderich for the next few days. With each new day that he woke up without a cold, the hypothesis of sickness causing his hearing loss became increasingly unlikely. And with each new day, he discovered more and more things that he realized he could no longer hear. The door to his bedroom no longer squeaked when it swung open, the teapot made no sound and had to be watched, the lightbulb above the kitchen sink didn't buzz any longer.

These things drove him to madness. These little things that had always been present were just… gone. How long had these things been absent? How could he not have noticed? How could he have been so ignorant?

Walking to his office on Monday morning, Roderich watched the trees. The wind was still today, and it made him furious. How was he to know if he could still hear the wind in the leaves if there was no wind to begin with? He stared forward as he walked, trying to pick out anything he could hear. People laughing in conversation as he passed, slamming car doors, birds chirping. It became so present to him that he couldn't tell if he genuinely couldn't hear things or if the noise inside his head was so loud that it left no room for external sounds.

The universe mocked him, though. His normal walk up the stairs was graced with the music of students attending their private lessons. But today the hallway was silent. His heart was heavy with the anxiety and paranoia, and the silence was pushing him over an edge he hadn't seen in years. He could feel the ability to cry approaching, and his shaking hands couldn't quite find the keys to his office.

"Roderich?" A voice said from down the hall.

His head swirled in euphoria, a smile spreading across his face in relief. He didn't care who it was, but the idea of another human voice was thrilling and set his feet firmly upon the ground once again.

"Roderich?" A woman said. "What are you doing here?"

He turned to see the source of the voice, thankful that it was a familiar face. "Paula, how are you?"

"Are you not going to Dr. Petrov's masterclass?" Paula asked, clearly confused about everything regarding Roderich's presence and demeanor.

Roderich's smile faded back into his usual flat face. "That's today?"

She brought her own keys up to the doorknob of her own office, one door down from Roderich's. "Yes, I just came back up to get some rosin for one of my students. Did you forget about the guest speaker?" She pushed the door to her office open and Roderich stepped closer, not wanting to lose track of her voice.

"I…. I suppose I did." He said, feeling the admittance of failure sour his tongue.

"We were wondering where you were," she reached into her desk drawer and brought out a small box, opening it for a moment before closing the drawer. "You can walk in with me so it doesn't look so obvious, if you'd like."

"Dr. Treves!" Another voice shouted from down the hallway. Roderich turned to see, silently overjoyed that he could hear yet another voice. A student of Paula's came running, her heels clicking anxiously on the floor. Roderich was thrilled to hear them echo. "Good morning, Dr. Edelstein."

"Good morning, Ms. Wolf." He said politely as the girl went to stand in the doorway a few feet ahead of him. He felt his eyes widen at the surrealism of hearing. It had never hit him so intensely.

"Dr. Treves, Hannah forgot her music, she said she left it on the stand…" she began, but Paula cut her off, handing her the music as well as the box of rosin.

"I'll be down in a moment, please tell her to calm down."

"Okay, thank you…" her words trailed off as she had already bolted back down the hall, her heels still clicking, to Roderich's delight.

He turned to look back at Paula, feeling residual anxiety begin to bubble up again as the two of them shared no audible interaction.

"What is bothering you, Roderich?" She asked suddenly.

"What? Oh, nothing." He said, turning away.

She scoffed, flipping the light switch and locking her office door behind her. "You stared at Ms. Wolf and myself as if we were aliens, and you forgot that today was the masterclass, which you've been looking forward to. I figure something is bothering you." She began to walk in the same direction in which her student had disappeared, and Roderich followed like a lost puppy.

"I suppose that stress has just been bothering me." He said. He was a terrible liar, but Paula was terrible at vocal cues, especially in her fourth language.

"You need to rest," she said, placing her hand delicately on the rail going downstairs.

"I will be fine, but thank you." He replied, following. He listened intently at the sound of her shoes hitting the floor. The anxiety was fading once more, and he wondered if he had been hallucinating his hearing troubles. The two of them rounded the corner and into the side door of the recital hall. The ceilings were quite tall and the walls acoustically bouncy, and no sound could possibly go unheard in this room. In his time of unsureness, this room was a safety net. There was no doubt that everything said or played here wouldn't go unheard.

They arrived just in time to catch the end of Dr. Petrov's introduction. Between the silence of him leaving the stage and the first performer, they found their seats. The front half of the recital hall was filled with music students, with some stragglers quickly grabbing seats next to their friends. Roderich turned to see the entire crowd, noticing that one man alone sat in the back of the small venue, attentively listening. His white hair was quite bright against the dark wood of the wall behind him, and Roderich almost immediately identified the man.

"Gilbert?" He asked to himself.

"What?" Paula asked into his hear, rather quietly.

"Ah… nothing. A private student of mine is here for some reason." He turned back to watch the first violist set up her stand and music.

"He wants to learn." Paula said simply, and the girl began to play.

Rich, vibrating notes filled the recital hall. Roderich's unease faded quickly as it became evident that he could catch every note and nuance, and would have no issues hearing the music or the critiques that followed.

As the hour ended, Dr. Petrov walked onto the stage once more to thank the performers, but Roderich headed to the back of the hall, approaching Gilbert.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Good morning to you too, Professor." Gilbert said, mocking his greeting.

"Excuse me." Roderich said, stepping back.

"I thought that it would be an opportunity to learn stuff, even if it's not cello-related," Gilbert went right into explaining. This took Roderich by surprise, so much so that he had no time to react. "I mean a lot of it seemed pretty advanced and went over my head, but I wrote down some things that I thought might be useful at some point."

Roderich blinked several times, processing Gilbert's sudden wisdom. "Such as?"

Gilbert looked down, quickly scanning as he spoke. "Oh, like… stuff about how to make mistakes, music asking questions, uh… like that."

Roderich had no response but to blink. He was immensely surprised at Gilbert's diligence. Most of the music students never bothered to take notes on a masterclass; the idea that a non-musically educated person would even show up to one was bordering on ridiculous. And yet here he was, eager to learn, just as Paula had said.

"So, yeah, good reason to call into work today. I saw the information flyer advertising it to the students and it didn't say anything about pricing so I figured it was free anyway…"

"Would you like to meet him?" Roderich interrupted.

Gilbert snapped from explanatory to retorting in the blink of an eye. "I didn't realize plebeians like me were allowed to interact with world-class violists."

Roderich rolled his eyes, walking towards the front of the hall, but again surprised. "You've done your research on Dr. Petrov, then."

"The guy is insane, like, I watched his recording of the Schnittke concerto with the Vienna Philharmonic like four times."

Roderich turned to look in surprise. "Schnittke?"

Gilbert looked confused. "Yeah…?"

The professor cracked a smile. "You mean you went from knowing nothing about classical music to listening to Schnittke?"

Gilbert shrugged. "I just googled Eduard Petrov and it came up, so, yeah I guess?"

Roderich felt the urge to laugh, but contained it within his chest. Everything about his day was bordering on surreal. "Did you happen to notice who was sitting principal second in that video, Gilbert?" He asked as he turned to continue walking.

He heard no reply, but he imagined it was because Dr. Petrov was approaching the pair of them. "Roderich." He said firmly. "How are you?" His voice was low, and hearing him talk just a few feet from him was much more earth-shattering than just hearing his advice from across the auditorium.

"Fine, thank you," Roderich began. "Eduard, this is my student Gilbert. He has recently become a fan of yours."

Gilbert looked quite smug as he extended a handshake. The two men shook hands vigorously, as if it were a competition. "Your student?" The violist asked. "He looks no younger than you!"

"I got started late." Gilbert said, providing a concise reply.

"Fair enough. Never too late to learn." The man's Russian accent nearly clouded his words, but Gilbert was determined to conversate through it.

"That's what I was hoping to hear. But you are amazing, dude."

Roderich put a hand on his forehead in sheer embarrassment, and Dr. Petrov smiled in surprise. "Well, thank you, Gilbert." The surrealism continued to pile onto Roderich's already overwhelmed mind. Petrov turned to face Roderich, clearly having no clue what to say to the white-haired man in front of him. "When are you coming back to Vienna to make another recording?" he asked.

Roderich shook his head. "I'm not sure, it's been a busy semester so far and I'm just not sure if I'll be able to…"

A phone ringing quite loudly took everyone left in the hall by surprise, and everyone turned to see Gilbert dig his phone out of his pocket. He looked quite frantic as he answered, quickly walking up the main aisle and out the doors of the recital hall. "Yes, hello?" He disappeared without a salutation.

Dr. Petrov chuckled, his nostrils expanding as he exhaled. "Interesting man." He noted. "He talks quite loud."

Roderich turned and quipped, "It's all the Schnittke."

As Petrov laughed a full, heavy laugh at Roderich's wit, Roderich hid caution underneath the reactionary smile. He had never thought of Gilbert's voice as being loud. With that thought, his previous anxiety that had been so graciously lifted by the masterclass suddenly came crashing down around him once again.


	6. Chapter 6

The remainder of the day was spent attending Dr. Petrov's various planned events. A masterclass with the viola students, a lecture on post-communist Russian music, and a pair of brief solo performances were on the agenda. Roderich and Paula escorted their guest everywhere, talking with him as friends and colleagues. Their day was absolutely packed, so when the three of them finally sat down for lunch at Roderich's favorite café just off campus, there was a mutual but silent sigh of relief.

Paula had suggested they eat outside, and picked a small table in the corner of the fenced-in patio. It was secluded enough that they might have some privacy, but just centric enough to enjoy the movement of the street and the city around them.

The waiter came to their table and stood right next to Roderich's seat – thankfully – and he had very little trouble hearing him. Perhaps he wasn't going insane, and the piano and the doorbell had all been minute problems that would work themselves out. The young boy took their orders and departed, leaving the professors in a comfortable silence for a moment.

"So Eduard," Paula began. "How do you like your newly remodeled office?"

Putting his cup down, he nodded enthusiastically. "It's quite nice! I think that getting rid of the old furniture was most of the solution. It seems less like an interrogation room!"

"You got rid of your desk?" Roderich interjected.

Eduard laughed. "You mean the operation table?"

"I liked the desk."

Paula put her drink to her lips and spoke. "I'm sure the St. Petersburg conservatory would love to give it to you."

"I just think it could've been updated rather than thrown out." Roderich fought back. He didn't quite remember every detail of Eduard's old desk and chairs, but he thought that if they had just repainted the wood and changed the drawer handles that it would've been just fine.

"You're always trying to save things." Paula rolled her eyes.

"It's wasteful to not save things," reasoned Roderich. "I kept the previous professor's furniture when I moved in to my office."

Paula laughed. "And none of it matches! That chair next to the piano predates the school!"

"It's historically significant."

"Just because something survived a bombing doesn't mean it's historically significant."

"I would disagree." Roderich looked aside, watching the waiter return with their lunches.

"Then is half the country historically significant?"

"Is it not?"

As the waiter placed the dishes in front of each person, Eduard laughed at their bickering. "Roderich just likes older things! Can you blame him?" He turned to the waiter as he was leaving the table and said a quick thank you before plunging a spoon into the soup bowl.

Paula immediately picked up her fork and began mixing the dressing into her salad. "Speaking of which, your new student. You rarely ever teach adults."

Roderich sighed and placed a napkin over his lap. "No, I don't. But Benjamin is on sabbatical this semester and this man really wanted to start learning cello."

Eduard looked up in question. "What was his name?"

"Gilbert Beilschmidt."

"Yes, Gilbert. That was an interesting conversation we had." Eduard laughed, taking a large swig of his drink. "How long have you been teaching him?"

"We've only had one lesson thus far, but he is set on learning everything he possibly can. His biggest problem so far is that he has a difficult time admitting when he is wrong."

Paula smiled slyly. "Sounds just like you."

Eduard laughed again, enjoying the banter much more than Roderich was. "Has he played an instrument before?"

Roderich shook his head, salting his potatoes. "No, I'm starting from scratch completely, and on an instrument I haven't studied since university."

"It will be fun. Adults are just like children when they start."

"Except when the adult is as old as you are, they think they can talk down to you." Roderich aggressively mashed his potatoes and took a bite.

"Remind him that you have credentials," Paula said.

"Take him out for a drink afterwards!" Eduard said at the same time.

The two laughed while Roderich sat uncomfortably. "I'm sure getting a beer at one in the afternoon would make him respect me more."

Paula gently patted his shoulder. "He will, don't worry. If he is willing to learn, which it sounds like he is, then I'm sure he will quickly start to listen to you."

"He seems very dedicated to soaking up new information, if he listened to Schnittke," Eduard added. "Just show him you are as dedicated to his learning as he is. That is how he will respect you."

Mulling it over, he took a couple more bites of his potatoes. "I suppose you are right."

The three shared a moment of comfortable silence together as they ate.

"Are you going to answer him?" Paula asked suddenly.

"What? Did you say something?" Roderich said hastily, feeling a heavy panic in his chest as he looked over to Dr. Petrov.

"No, your student." She said, pointing down at the table. Roderich looked down, seeing his cellphone that he had set next to his plate. He was receiving a call from Gilbert, but he hadn't heard the phone go off.

"Oh." He said simply, sliding the screen across. "Excuse me a moment," he said to his friends, and put the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Professor, it's Gilbert." A defeated Gilbert said through some static.

"Yes, how are you?" Roderich answered, not bothering to correct him this time.

He didn't answer, but continued. "Something has come up, I won't be able to do a lesson on Thursday. Are you available Friday at any time before noon?"

Roderich took a moment. Eduard was right. He had to be just as dedicated as Gilbert was. "I… suppose I could come in early."

Gilbert's relief was audible. "Oh, thank you. What time?"

Roderich closed his eyes tight, unbelieving what he was about to say. "Eight?"

"That's perfect. Thank you so much, Dr. Edels…" Gilbert paused.

"Sir," a woman's voice said in the background, quite loudly. "You aren't allowed to have your phone in here…"

"Yes, sorry. Thank you, Dr. Edelstein. See you Friday." Gilbert ended the call swiftly, leaving Roderich as confused as ever. He turned back to his friends and sighed.

"What was he asking about?" Paula asked.

"Just rescheduling his lesson. He seemed rather anxious."

Paula looked at Roderich in surprise, then pointed behind him.

"What?" He said, and turned. The waiter was standing right over his shoulder with a pitcher of water. "Yes?" He snapped, wondering why on earth the he was hovering over him.

"He just asked if you wanted a refill Roderich, don't be so mean to the poor boy." Paula held up her water glass. "Thank you, sir."

Surprised, and now anxious as ever, Roderich handed his glass to the boy. "Sorry." He said. "I guess I didn't hear you."

On Friday morning, the sleep-deprived professor was finally awakened by his alarm. He turned over to press snooze, rubbing his eyes. God, it was so early. Far too early for his taste. When he picked up his phone from the nightstand, he noticed the time was not what he expected. Seven-thirty?! His alarm had been going off for an hour. He shot out of bed. For the fourth day in a row, he hadn't heard it go off…

He stumbled around his messy room, pulling clothes on as fast as he could. He ran to the kitchen and filled his thermos with coffee, thank goodness he had timed the coffee pot the previous night. He knew he wouldn't be able to function without it. Finding his shoes but not enough time to tie them, he barely made it to the stop on the corner in time to catch the bus to campus.

The ride to campus was short, but he was still half-asleep. His brain auto-piloted him to his office, and he shut the door behind him without a second thought. He wasn't sure if he had actually taken a drink of his coffee the entire trip there… it was now 7:55 and he knew the remainder of the day would be long and grueling.

Before he could so much as sit at his desk, there was a knock on his door. "Are you kidding me," he said to himself. The door knob was just slightly jammed, and it took some convincing to get it open. When it finally clicked open, he swung the door wide and was eye-to-eye with Gilbert.

His student looked rather shocked to see him like this. His eyes were wide and his cheeks turned a bright pink.

"Eight in the morning is very early." Roderich stated.

"…yeah." Gilbert said, unmoving. His eyes darted to the side.

The professor was puzzled for a moment; Gilbert was normally the first to make eye contact in a conversation. He looked at him for a moment before looking down at himself. He immediately was embarrassed. His shirt was wide open, he hadn't even buttoned it during the bus ride. Quickly, he set his thermos on the desk and darted to the mirror. His hair was absolutely everywhere, his belt unbuckled, his shirt half-tucked. An absolute mess.

"Excuse me." Roderich said, quickly turning away from the door to fix his belt and shirt. "My alarm did not go off this morning."

"It didn't?" Gilbert asked in disbelief.

"…I didn't hear it." He added.

"…it's going off now."

Roderich whipped around, feeling his uncombed hair bounce around his face. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. Sure enough, the phone was flashing and indeed the loud, beeping alarm was still going. Had it been going this whole time? The entire bus ride?

"Oh my god." Roderich sighed, exasperated. This was a disaster of a morning, and now his anxiety about his hearing was heavy as ever.

"Should we… skip today?" Gilbert asked, still not looking in his direction.

"No!" He argued, running a hand over his hair. "I'm sorry. Give me a minute." He lifted his glasses with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other. This was very overwhelming for a man who was just now beginning to wake up. He turned back to face the mirror, buttoning his shirt. "Please, get your instrument out and let's just start."

"…alright." Gilbert said, with some hesitation. He sat down in the usual flat-backed chair and began to unpack his cello. The case silently clicked open, the lowest string catching on one of the Velcro straps and causing the piano and the music stand to vibrate slightly.

The professor reached for his coffee and chugged it, letting it burn his tongue. What a disaster of a day, he thought.

Gilbert set his phone on the music stand, a tuning app open and ready to use. He began to pull the bow across the strings, reaching for the tuning pegs and adjusting them. Upon seeing this, Roderich held out a hand and quickly swallowed his coffee. "I will tune it for you, don't touch the pegs."

"I looked up how to do it," Gilbert said. "I figured it was important, and it's not too hard."

"What if you break a string!"

"I'm not stupid, Professor," the student retorted. "I know how to do it."

Roderich was shocked. "…alright, well." He watched as Gilbert carefully watched the tuner on screen and gently coaxed the pegs into the right position. After a couple of conversation-free minutes, he turned back to his teacher.

"So."

Roderich sighed and plopped himself down on the piano bench, facing his student. "Yes?"

"Good morning."

The professor scoffed. "Good morning."

"I practiced everything you told me to do." The two looked each other in the eye; Gilbert's glare was piercing and intense.

"Excellent. How did it go?" Roderich pretended not to notice.

"It went great." Without a further word, Gilbert played through the open string exercises one after another flawlessly, and by memory. Roderich was absolutely shocked. His bowhold was incredible, and his posture was that of a completely different player. He didn't know how to respond, and Gilbert simply stared at him with a haughty grin. The demolished building of the morning continued to drop bricks on Roderich's head.

"Well done." He finally said, blinking.

"Thank you."

Roderich rubbed his eyes again. "Might I ask you something?"

"I think you just did." Gilbert responded, the grin growing wider.

Roderich sighed, absolutely exasperated. "It's so early for me, Gilbert…" he began.

Gilbert interrupted. "Ask away, Professor."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty."

Roderich looked up. "Really?"

"How old are you?"

"I'm thirty-one."

Gilbert snorted, just enough to push air through his nose. "Why do you ask?"

"I was just curious. I don't teach beginning adults very often. I haven't taught a beginning student in a few years, actually. Let alone on cello."

"Glad I can be your guinea pig." Gilbert reached into his bag and pulled out one of the method books Roderich had given him. "I started looking at this etude…"

"Why do you want to play the cello?" Roderich asked suddenly. He couldn't believe himself. His mouth was three steps ahead of his brain.

"Because my father was going to get rid of it," he restated. He looked ahead at the music stand, finally avoiding Roderich's eyes.

"That's not a reason to learn."

Gilbert turned back at him, his words shooting out of his lips. "Because I thought it would be fun. Is that so wrong?"

Unfazed, Roderich prodded. "But you couldn't wait until spring for Dr. Murray to return?"

Gilbert turned his whole body to face his teacher as he shouted. "It's my business, Dr. Edelstein!"

Now Dr. Edelstein leaned back, surprised again by his lashing out. Why had he tried to pull back the curtain? His body was in his office, but he had left his mind on his pillow. "Let's continue."


End file.
